Tag: Care

  • Opening doors: how the University of Nottingham transformed access for care leavers

    Opening doors: how the University of Nottingham transformed access for care leavers

    This blog was kindly authored by Vikki Welch, Associate Director Student Living, University of Nottingham.

    It is the second blog in HEPI’s series with The Unite Foundation on how to best support care experienced and estranged students. You can find the first blog here.

    When the University of Nottingham (UoN) launched its Care Leaver and Estranged Student support package in 2022, the ambition was clear: to remove financial barriers and create a genuine sense of belonging for students who often arrive without the safety net of family support. Today, it provides a comprehensive wraparound system, anchored by a one-year accommodation bursary that has changed lives.

    Why accommodation matters

    For care-experienced and estranged students, the cost of living on campus can be a major obstacle. UoN’s analysis revealed that these students were disproportionately opting for cheaper, off-campus housing – often in poorer conditions and far from academic spaces. This not only isolated them from student life but also correlated with lower degree outcomes compared to peers who lived on campus.

    The solution was bold: cover 365 days of accommodation costs for the first year of study, whether in catered halls or self-catered options. By partnering with third-party providers and embedding strong support mechanisms, we were able to develop a comprehensive package of support for care experienced and estranged students. Critical to this was ensuring that the bursary was non-competitive and universally available to eligible students – we wanted to create the opportunity to welcome all care experienced and estranged students who met our eligibility criteria and wanted to study at the University of Nottingham. The goal was not just financial relief but a holistic transition into university life – setting our students up for success.

    Beyond the bursary

    The scheme goes far beyond paying rent. From pre-entry needs assessments and liaising with local authorities to welcome events and starter packs, we designed a programme that recognises the emotional and practical challenges care experienced and estranged students face. Initiatives like “NottingHome for the Holidays” during winter vacation and solidarity events during Estranged Student Week foster community and belonging.

    Support continues throughout the year: exam preparation, wellbeing interventions, and help with second-year housing – including covering costs for guarantor services. The summer BBQ for care experienced and estranged students is a joyful and emotionally rewarding event to see a cohort come together to celebrate their first year.

    This is underpinned by staff who really care and want the best for these students. None of this would be possible without such incredible people. The UoN models puts our people in theposition to make a difference.

    Impact on recruitment and retention

    The results speak volumes. Applications from care-experienced students have risen since the bursary’s introduction, and enrolment rates have improved significantly. Living on campus has been shown, through regression analysis by UoN’s Digital Research Service, to increase the likelihood of degree completion among bursary recipients. With a 92% increase in care experienced and estranged students choosing on campus accommodation we are confident in the success outcomes of these students once they graduate.  This mirrors findings from the Unite Foundation scholarship programme, reinforcing the transformative power of secure, inclusive accommodation.

    Financial stress remains a critical issue for care experienced and estranged students nationally – this was something we heard consistently in focus groups with this group of students. The recent analysis of HEPI’s Student Academic Experience Survey shows that this group of students work at least 2+hours more in paid work than their peers. At Nottingham, 98% of respondents said the bursary was essential to continuing their studies.

    One first-year student summed it up:

    I don’t have to worry about getting a job on top of my studies this year because of my accommodation bursary.

    Wellbeing and belonging

    The impact goes beyond numbers. Students report feeling part of campus life, joining societies, using sports facilities and building friendships. Reduced working hours mean more time for study and social engagement, which in turn supports mental health and academic success. UoN’s commitment was recognised with the NNECL Quality Mark, awarded “Exceptional” for both pre-enrolment support and student wellbeing.

    Lessons for the sector

    What can other universities learn from Nottingham’s approach? First, that accommodation is not a luxury – it’s a foundation for success. Second, that financial support must be paired with pastoral care and community-building. Finally, that schemes should be flexible, extending help to students who become estranged after enrolment.

    As higher education grapples with cost-of-living pressures, Nottingham’s model offers a template and example for meaningful change. By investing in accommodation and wraparound support, universities can turn access into success for some of the most vulnerable students in our system.

    You can find out more about accommodation scholarships and wider support for care experienced and estranged students through the Unite Foundation’s Blueprint framework – supporting your institution to in building a safe and stable home for care experienced and estranged students, improving retention and attainment outcomes.  

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  • Duty of care isn’t about mental health, it’s about preventing harm

    Duty of care isn’t about mental health, it’s about preventing harm

    When people talk about a “duty of care” in higher education, the conversation almost always circles back to mental health – to counselling services, wellbeing strategies, or suicide prevention.

    It’s understandable. Those are visible, urgent needs. But the phrase “duty of care” carries far more weight than any one policy or pastoral initiative.

    It reaches into every space where universities hold power over students’ lives, and every context where harm is foreseeable and preventable.

    That misunderstanding has shaped national policy, too. When over 128,000 people petitioned Parliament for a statutory duty of care in 2023, the Government’s response was to establish the Higher Education Mental Health Implementation Taskforce – a body focused on mental health and suicide prevention.

    Its four objectives spoke volumes – boosting University Mental Health Charter sign-ups, expanding data analytics to flag students in distress, promoting “compassionate communications” to guide staff interactions with students and, where appropriate, with families, and overseeing a National Review of Higher Education Student Suicides.

    These were not bad aims – but they did not speak to the duty that had been demanded. None addressed the legal, structural, or preventative responsibilities that underpin a real duty of care.

    The Taskforce has tackled symptoms, not systems – outcomes, not obligations. By focusing on “student mental health,” the issue became more comfortable – easier to manage within existing policy frameworks and reputational boundaries.

    It allowed the sector to appear to act, while sidestepping the harder questions of legal clarity, parity, and the accountability owed to those who were harmed, failed, or lost.

    In a 2023 Wonkhe article, Sunday Blake made this point with striking clarity. “Duty of care,” she wrote, “is not just about suicide prevention.”

    Nor, by extension, is duty of care just about mental health. Universities shape students’ experiences through housing, assessment, social structures, disciplinary systems, placement arrangements, and daily communications.

    They wield influence that can support, endanger, empower or neglect. If the phrase “duty of care” is to mean anything, it must cover the full spectrum of foreseeable harm – not only the moments of crisis but the conditions that allow harm to build unseen.

    Importantly, this broader understanding of duty of care is not confined to campaigners or bereaved families. The British Medical Association has also recently called for a statutory duty of care across higher education, after hundreds of medical students reported sexual misconduct, harassment, and institutional neglect in a UK-wide survey.

    Drawing on evidence from its Medical Students Committee, the BMA argued that universities hold both knowledge and control, and therefore must bear legal responsibility for preventing foreseeable harm. Crucially, the BMA understands duty of care as a legal obligation – not a wellbeing initiative. Their intervention shows that this is not a niche debate about mental health, but a structural failure across the entire higher-education sector.

    That wider perspective is not a theoretical question. It has been tested – violently, publicly, and avoidably – in real life.

    The stabbing

    In October 2009, Katherine Rosen was a third-year pre-med student at UCLA, one of America’s leading public universities. She was attending a routine chemistry class – an ordinary academic setting – when another student, Damon Thompson, approached her from behind and stabbed her in the neck and chest with a kitchen knife. He nearly killed her.

    It was sudden. It was unprovoked. But it was not unexpected.

    Thompson had a long, documented history of paranoid delusions. University psychiatrists had diagnosed him with schizophrenia and major depressive disorder. He reported hearing voices and believed classmates were plotting against him.

    He had been expelled from university housing after multiple altercations. He told staff he was thinking about hurting others. He had specifically named Katherine in a complaint – claiming she had called him “stupid” during lab work.

    Staff knew. Multiple professionals were aware of his condition – and the risks he posed. Just one day before the attack, he was discussed at a campus risk assessment meeting. And yet – no action was taken. No warning was issued, no protection was offered, and no safeguarding plan was put in place.

    Katherine was left completely unaware. Because the university chose to do nothing.

    The legal battle

    After surviving the attack, Katherine took an action that would shape the future of student safety law in the United States – she sued her university.

    Her claim was simple but profound. UCLA, she argued, had a special relationship with her as a student. That relationship – based on enrolment, proximity, institutional control, and expectation of care – created a legal duty to protect her from foreseeable harm. And that duty, she said, had been breached.

    She wasn’t demanding perfection or suggesting universities could prevent every imaginable harm. She asked a basic question – if a student has been clearly identified as a threat, and the university knows it, doesn’t it have a legal responsibility to act before someone gets seriously hurt – or killed?

    UCLA’s response? No. The university claimed it had no legal duty to protect adult students from the criminal acts of others – even when it was aware of a risk. This wasn’t their responsibility, they said. Universities weren’t guardians, and students weren’t children. No duty, no breach, no liability.

    Their argument rested on a key principle of common law, shared by both the US and UK – that legal duties of care only arise in specific, established situations. Traditionally, adult-to-adult relationships – like those between a university and its students – did not automatically create such duties. Courts are cautious – they don’t want to impose sweeping responsibilities on institutions that may be unreasonable or unmanageable. But that argument ignores a crucial reality – the power imbalance, the structure, and the unique environment of university life.

    The judgment

    Katherine’s case wound its way through the California courts for almost ten years. At every level, the same question remained – does a university owe a duty of care to its students in classroom settings, especially when it is aware of a specific risk?

    Finally, in 2018, the California Supreme Court delivered a landmark ruling in her favour.

    The Court held – by a clear majority – that yes, universities do owe such a duty. Not universally, not in every context – but during curricular activities, and particularly when risks are foreseeable, they must take reasonable protective measures.

    The judgment clarified that a “special relationship” exists between universities and their students, based on the student’s dependence on the university for a “safe environment.” That relationship created not just moral expectations but legal ones.

    In the Court’s own words:

    Phrased at the appropriate level of generality, then, the question here is not whether UCLA could predict that Damon Thompson would stab Katherine Rosen in the chemistry lab. It is whether a reasonable university could foresee that its negligent failure to control a potentially violent student, or to warn students who were foreseeable targets of his ire, could result in harm to one of those students.

    That emphasis on warning mattered. The Court was clear that the duty it recognised did not demand extraordinary measures or perfect foresight. The minimum reasonable step UCLA could have taken — and failed to take — was to warn Katherine or put in place basic protective actions once staff knew she was a potential target. It was this failure at the most elementary level of safeguarding that brought the duty sharply into focus.

    And again:

    Colleges [universities] provide academic courses in exchange for a fee, but a college is far more to its students than a business. Residential colleges provide living spaces, but they are more than mere landlords. Along with educational services, colleges provide students social, athletic, and cultural opportunities. Regardless of the campus layout, colleges provide a discrete community for their students. For many students, college is the first time they have lived away from home. Although college students may no longer be minors under the law, they may still be learning how to navigate the world as adults. They are dependent on their college communities to provide structure, guidance, and a safe learning environment.

    This ruling was a seismic moment. It wasn’t just about Katherine – it was about thousands of other students, across hundreds of other classrooms, who could now expect, not merely hope, that their university would act when danger loomed.

    The precedent was narrow but profound

    This victory came at a cost. It took nearly a decade of litigation, immense emotional strength, and personal resilience. And even in success, the ruling was carefully limited in scope:

    … that universities owe a duty to protect students from foreseeable violence during curricular activities.

    The duty applied only to harm that was:

    • Foreseeable,
    • Tied to curricular activities, and
    • Within the university’s ability to prevent.

    It did not impose a sweeping obligation on universities to protect students in all circumstances – nor should it. But it decisively rejected the idea that universities have no duty to protect.

    This distinction – between the impossible and the reasonable – is crucial. The court did not ask universities to do the impossible. It simply expected them to act reasonably when aware of a real and specific risk to student safety. That principle sets a clear floor, not an unreachable ceiling, for institutional responsibility.

    It also highlights a broader truth – duty of care in higher education is not a binary. It is not all or nothing. A range of duties may arise depending on the setting – academic, residential, or social – or the nature of the risk. The more control a university exercises, and the more vulnerable the student, the greater the duty it may owe.

    This is not about creating impossible expectations – it is about recognising that responsibility must follow power.

    That same logic – and the emerging recognition of limited but enforceable duties – has begun to surface in UK courts. In Feder and McCamish v The Royal Welsh College of Music and Drama, a County Court held that higher education institutions have a duty of care to carry out reasonable investigations when they receive allegations of sexual assault:

    …by taking reasonable protective, supportive, investigatory and, when appropriate, disciplinary steps and in associated communications.

    Again, where institutions have knowledge and control, the law expects a proportionate response.

    But it is important to recognise just how narrow the duty was in Feder & McCamish. The College already had safeguarding procedures in place, and liability arose only because it failed to follow the process it had voluntarily adopted when students reported serious sexual assault.

    The court did not recognise any general duty to protect student welfare – it simply enforced the College’s own promises. It illustrates the limits of UK law – duties arise only in piecemeal, procedural ways, leaving large gaps in protection whenever an institution has not explicitly committed itself to a particular process, or chooses not to follow it.

    Why this story matters now

    The Rosen judgment exposes a truth that too many still miss. Duty of care in higher education is not about expanding counselling teams or implementing wellbeing charters. It’s about the structure of responsibility itself – who knows what, who can act, and who must act when risk is foreseeable.

    In Katherine Rosen’s case, mental health support for Damon Thompson already existed. What failed was the system around him – communication, coordination, and the willingness to protect others. The danger was known, the mechanisms to prevent it were available, and the decision to use them was not taken.

    That is why framing “duty of care” as a question of mental health provision misses the point. Whether the risk is psychological, physical, financial, or reputational, the same principle applies – when institutions hold both knowledge and control, they owe a duty to act with care.

    From assaults in halls to exploitation on placements, from harassment ignored to risks left unmonitored, the duty of care spans far more than mental health. It is about foreseeable harm in any form. It is about accountability that matches authority. It is about creating a culture in which doing nothing or ignoring what you know is no longer an option.

    As Parliament prepares to debate the issue once again, the Rosen case stands as a reminder that this conversation cannot stop at wellbeing. The question is not whether universities should care about students’ mental health – of course they should. The question is whether they will take responsibility for the predictable consequences of their own systems, structures, and decisions.

    Katherine Rosen’s survival – and her long legal struggle – gave the world a clearer definition of that responsibility. It showed that duty of care is not about offering sympathy after the fact, but about preventing foreseeable harm before it happens. That is the real meaning of duty of care in higher education – and it is the clarity the UK still urgently lacks.

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  • The new AI tools are fast but can’t replace the judgment, care and cultural knowledge teachers bring to the table

    The new AI tools are fast but can’t replace the judgment, care and cultural knowledge teachers bring to the table

    by Tanishia Lavette Williams, The Hechinger Report
    November 4, 2025

    The year I co-taught world history and English language arts with two colleagues, we were tasked with telling the story of the world in 180 days to about 120 ninth graders. We invited students to consider how texts and histories speak to one another: “The Analects” as imperial governance, “Sundiata” as Mali’s political memory, “Julius Caesar” as a window into the unraveling of a republic. 

    By winter, our students had given us nicknames. Some days, we were a triumvirate. Some days, we were Cerberus, the three-headed hound of Hades. It was a joke, but it held a deeper meaning. Our students were learning to make connections by weaving us into the histories they studied. They were building a worldview, and they saw themselves in it. 

    Designed to foster critical thinking, this teaching was deeply human. It involved combing through texts for missing voices, adapting lessons to reflect the interests of the students in front of us and trusting that learning, like understanding, unfolds slowly. That labor can’t be optimized for efficiency. 

    Yet, today, there’s a growing push to teach faster. Thousands of New York teachers are being trained to use AI tools for lesson planning, part of a $23 million initiative backed by OpenAI, Microsoft and Anthropic. The program promises to reduce teacher burnout and streamline planning. At the same time, a new private school in Manhattan is touting an AI-driven model that “speed-teaches” core subjects in just two hours of instruction each day while deliberately avoiding politically controversial issues. 

    Marketed as innovation, this stripped-down vision of education treats learning as a technical output rather than as a human process in which students ask hard questions and teachers cultivate the critical thinking that fuels curiosity. A recent analysis of AI-generated civics lesson plans found that they consistently lacked multicultural content and prompts for critical thinking. These AI tools are fast, but shallow. They fail to capture the nuance, care and complexity that deep learning demands. 

    Related: A lot goes on in classrooms from kindergarten to high school. Keep up with our free weekly newsletter on K-12 education.  

    When I was a teacher, I often reviewed lesson plans to help colleagues refine their teaching practices. Later, as a principal in Washington, D.C., and New York City, I came to understand that lesson plans, the documents connecting curriculum and achievement, were among the few steady examples of classroom practice. Despite their importance, lesson plans were rarely evaluated for their effectiveness.  

    When I wrote my dissertation, after 20 years of working in schools, lesson plan analysis was a core part of my research. Analyzing plans across multiple schools, I found that the activities and tasks included in lesson plans were reliable indicators of the depth of knowledge teachers required and, by extension, the limits of what students were asked to learn. 

    Reviewing hundreds of plans made clear that most lessons rarely offered more than a single dominant voice — and thus confined both what counted as knowledge and what qualified as achievement. Shifting plans toward deeper, more inclusive student learning required deliberate effort to incorporate primary sources, weave together multiple narratives and design tasks that push students beyond mere recall. 

     I also found that creating the conditions for such learning takes time. There is no substitute for that. Where this work took hold, students were making meaning, seeing patterns, asking why and finding themselves in the story. 

    That’s the transformation AI can’t deliver. When curriculum tools are trained on the same data that has long omitted perspectives, they don’t correct bias; they reproduce it. The developers of ChatGPT acknowledge that the model is “skewed toward Western views and performs best in English” and warn educators to review its content carefully for stereotypes and bias. Those same distortions appear at the systems level — a 2025 study in the World Journal of Advanced Research and Reviews found that biased educational algorithms can shape students’ educational paths and create new structural barriers. 

    Ask an AI tool for a lesson on westward expansion, and you’ll get a tidy narrative about pioneers and Manifest Destiny. Request a unit on the Civil Rights Movement and you may get a few lines on Martin Luther King Jr., but hardly a word about Ella Baker, Fannie Lou Hamer or the grassroots organizers who made the movement possible. Native nations, meanwhile, are reduced to footnotes or omitted altogether. 

    Curriculum redlining — the systematic exclusion or downplaying of entire histories, perspectives and communities — has already been embedded in educational materials for generations. So what happens when “efficiency” becomes the goal? Whose histories are deemed too complex, too political or too inconvenient to make the cut? 

    Related: What aspects of teaching should remain human? 

    None of this is theoretical. It’s already happening in classrooms across the country. Educators are under pressure to teach more with less: less time, fewer resources, narrower guardrails. AI promises relief but overlooks profound ethical questions. 

    Students don’t benefit from autogenerated worksheets. They benefit from lessons that challenge them, invite them to wrestle with complexity and help them connect learning to the world around them. That requires deliberate planning and professional judgment from a human who views education as a mechanism to spark inquiry. 

    Recently, I asked my students at Brandeis University to use AI to generate a list of individuals who embody concepts such as beauty, knowledge and leadership. The results, overwhelmingly white, male and Western, mirrored what is pervasive in textbooks.  

    My students responded with sharp analysis. One student created color palettes to demonstrate the narrow scope of skin tones generated by AI. Another student developed a “Missing Gender” summary to highlight omissions. It was a clear reminder that students are ready to think critically but require opportunities to do so.  

    AI can only do what it’s programmed to do, which means it draws from existing, stratified information and lags behind new paradigms. That makes it both backward-looking and vulnerable to reproducing bias.  

    Teaching with humanity, by contrast, requires judgment, care and cultural knowledge. These are qualities no algorithm can automate. When we surrender lesson planning to AI, we don’t just lose stories; we also lose the opportunity to engage with them. We lose the critical habits of inquiry and connection that teaching is meant to foster. 

    Tanishia Lavette Williams is the inaugural education stratification postdoctoral fellow at the Institute on Race, Power and Political Economy, a Kay fellow at Brandeis University and a visiting scholar at Harvard University. 

    Contact the opinion editor at [email protected].  

    This story about male AI and teaching was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for Hechinger’s weekly newsletter.  

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  • North Carolina Continues to Lose Licensed Child Care Programs – The 74

    North Carolina Continues to Lose Licensed Child Care Programs – The 74


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    Members of Gov. Josh Stein’s bipartisan Task Force on Child Care and Early Education got an update on licensed child care closures during their most recent meeting.

    “Just in the month of August, we had more than twice as many programs close as open,” said Candace Witherspoon, director of the Division of Child Development and Early Education (DCDEE).

    Her statement is evidence that — despite a small uptick in the number of centers last quarter — the overall trend of licensed child care losses has continued since the end of pandemic-era stabilization grants earlier this year.

    Based on data provided by the N.C. Child Care Resource and Referral (CCR&R) Council in partnership with DCDEE, EdNC previously found that North Carolina lost 5.8% of licensed child care programs during the five years when stabilization grants were used to supplement teacher wages.

    That net loss has increased to 6.1% since the end of stabilization grants. Family child care homes (FCCHs) make up 97% of that net loss.

    Trends among licensed centers and homes

    Since February 2020, the last month of data before the COVID-19 pandemic, the number of licensed FCCHs has decreased by 23%. The number of licensed child care centers has decreased by 0.3%.

    The trend for licensed FCCHs since EdNC began tracking the data in June 2023 has been one of consistent net loss, decreasing each quarter.

    Graphic by Katie Dukes/EdNC

    There were 1,363 FCCHs in February 2020. That number was down to 1,096 in March 2025, the last data before the end of stabilization grants. Now there are 1,052 FCCHs across the state.

    While licensed child care centers have also experienced a net loss since February 2020, the trend has been less linear.

    Graphic by Katie Dukes/EdNC

    There were 3,879 licensed centers in February 2020. When EdNC began tracking in June 2023, the number was slightly higher at 3,881. From then on it fluctuated, with net gains in some quarters and net losses in others. There are now 3,868 licensed centers statewide.

    While the net loss of centers remains small, the effect of a single center closing is huge — especially in rural communities.

    Families on Hatteras Island are learning this firsthand. The only licensed child care program on the island is scheduled to close at the end of the year. With no licensed FCCHs and no clear way to save the sole licensed center, families are trying to figure out how to keep their businesses open and remain in their communities without access to child care.

    Access to high-quality, affordable early care and learning is crucial to child and family freedom and well-being. It enables parents to participate in the workforce or continue their education without concern for the safety of their children. It also puts North Carolina’s youngest residents on a path to future success.

    Graphic by Lanie Sorrow

    Trends among subgroups

    In addition to monitoring overall licensed child care trends, EdNC zooms in on trends among three subgroups of counties each quarter.

    In the counties that make up the area covered by the Dogwood Health Trust (Avery, Buncombe, Burke, Cherokee, Clay, Graham, Haywood, Henderson, Jackson, Macon, Madison, McDowell, Mitchell, Polk, Rutherford, Swain, Transylvania, and Yancey), the number of licensed child care sites is 5% lower than before the pandemic. These counties had a net loss of eight programs from July through September 2025, the largest single-quarter decrease since EdNC began tracking.

    In the majority-Black counties (Bertie, Edgecombe, Halifax, Hertford, Northampton, Vance, Warren, and Washington), the number of licensed child care sites remained relatively stable during and after the pandemic. But in the most recent quarter, these counties had a net loss of nine programs, putting them 4% lower than before the pandemic, a sudden and dramatic shift in circumstance. As with the Dogwood counties, this represents the largest single-quarter decrease since EdNC began tracking.

    In Robeson and Swain, which both have large Indigenous populations, the number of licensed child care sites had also remained relatively stable during and after the pandemic. In the most recent quarter, for the first time since EdNC began tracking, the number of licensed child care programs in these counties has dipped just below pre-pandemic levels.

    Editor’s note: The Dogwood Health Trust supports the work of EdNC.

    This article first appeared on EdNC and is republished here under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.



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  • Child care crisis deepens as funding slashed for poor families

    Child care crisis deepens as funding slashed for poor families

    by Jackie Mader, The Hechinger Report
    November 1, 2025

    The first hint of trouble for McKinley Hess came in August. 

    Hess, who runs an infant and toddler care program in Conway, Arkansas, heard that the teen moms she serves were having trouble getting their expected child care assistance payments. Funded by a mix of federal and state dollars, those subsidies are the only way many low-income parents nationwide can afford child care, by reimbursing providers for care and lowering the amount parents have to pay themselves.

    In Arkansas, teen parents have long been given priority to receive this aid. But now, Hess heard, they and many other families in need were sitting on a growing wait-list.

    Hess had just enrolled eight teen moms at her central Arkansas site, Conway Cradle Care, and was counting on state subsidies to pay for their children’s care. As the moms were stuck waiting for financial assistance, Hess had two options: kick them out, or care for their infants for free so their mothers wouldn’t have to drop out of school. She chose the latter. 

    Just a month later, another hit: Arkansas government officials announced they were going to cut the rates they pay providers on behalf of low-income families. Beginning Nov. 1, Hess will get $36 a day for each infant in her care and $35 a day for toddlers, down from $56 and $51 a day respectively. She’s already lost out on more than $20,000 by providing free care for 8 infants for the past two months.

    “Financially, it really is going to hurt our day care,” Hess said. But the stakes are also high for the parents who need child care assistance, she said: “For them to be able to continue school, these vouchers are essential.” 

    As states face having to cut spending while bracing for fewer federal dollars under the budget bill President Trump signed in July, some, including Arkansas, view early learning programs as a place to slash funding. They’re making these cuts even as experts and providers predict they will be disastrous for children, families and the economy if parents don’t have child care and can’t work. 

    The same families face other upheaval: The ongoing government shutdown means states may not receive their Nov. 1 shares of federal money for the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program, also known as food stamps, meaning families may not get that aid. Across the country, more than 100 Head Start centers, part of a federally funded preschool program that provides free child care, may have to close, at least temporarily, if the shutdown drags on as expected and they do not get expected federal cash by the start of next month. 

    Related: Young children have unique needs and providing the right care can be a challenge. Our free early childhood education newsletter tracks the issues. 

    Elsewhere, Colorado, Maryland and New Jersey recently stopped accepting new families into their child care assistance programs. In June, Oregon’s Democratic-led legislature cut $20 million from the state’s preschool program for low-income families. In September, Indiana joined Arkansas in announcing reductions in reimbursement rates for providers who care for low-income children. This summer, the governor of Alaska vetoed part of the state’s budget that would have given more money to child care and early intervention services for young children with developmental disabilities. Washington state legislators cut $60 million last month from a program that provides early learning and family support to preschoolers. Additional cuts or delays in payments have cropped up in Ohio, Nevada and the District of Columbia.

    “Almost every state is facing a very, very, very significant pullback of federal dollars,” said Daniel Hains, chief policy officer at the D.C.-based National Association for the Education of Young Children. “It does not help families when you cut provider reimbursement rates, when you cut funds going to providers, because it makes it less likely that those families are going to access the high-quality child care that they need.”

    This trend could further devastate America’s fragile child care industry, which has been especially slow to recover since the pandemic due to a lack of funding. Child care programs are expensive to run and, with limited public support, providers rely heavily on tuition from parents to pay their bills.

    In many parts of the country, parents already pay the equivalent of college tuition or a second mortgage on child care and have little ability to pay more. Yet child care staff generally make abysmally low wages and have high turnover rates. There’s often little wiggle room in program budgets.

    One of the only sources of federal funding for child care centers comes from the federally funded Child Care and Development Fund. Each year, Congress sets the level of block grants to states, which add matching funds. Arkansas officials said recent cuts to their subsidy program are in response to an unexpected $8 million decrease in federal CCDF funding this year after post-pandemic changes to the way state payouts are calculated.

    In September, Arkansas Secretary of Education Jacob Oliva told lawmakers that without cutting rates to providers, the state would be unlikely to be able to sustain the program. “The last thing I want to do is set up a reimbursement rate that at Christmas we have to call everybody and say we’re done, we spent all our money,” he said during a hearing.

    In addition to cutting payments to providers, the state increased family co-payments, the amount parents must pay toward child care in addition to what their subsidy covers. It’s far from a perfect solution, Oliva told lawmakers. “But we have to do something.”

    Related: How early ed is affected by federal cuts

    During the pandemic, child care programs and states received a fresh infusion of public funds from the American Rescue Plan Act and the Child Care and Development Block Grant, helping to stabilize those businesses. Many states used the influx to bolster their subsidy programs, allowing more children to use them and increasing what providers were paid.

    As that aid expired over the last two years, some states found money to sustain that expansion, but others did not. Indiana was left with a $225 million gap between the cost of its child care subsidy program and the state money dedicated to filling it. In October, officials cut reimbursement rates by 10 to 35 percent, saying in a statement that “there is only one pot of money — we could either protect providers or kids, and we chose kids.”

    Experts and child care directors say, however, that in the child care business it’s impossible to decouple kids from providers. The decision to cut reimbursement rates will ultimately hurt both, they insist, especially as providers find it hard to keep their doors open. Already, some programs have shuttered or announced plans to close by the end of the year. At others, families have left in search of more affordable care.

    Cori Kerns, a senior staff consultant at Little Duckling Early Learning Schools in Indianapolis, said that now that schools are receiving less money from the state, parents must make up the difference. Since the changes were announced in September, Little Duckling has lost 26 children — nearly 18 percent of its enrollment — because parents cannot afford that increase. 

    “That could be a tank of gas to them, that could be some groceries, that could be school supplies or medical needs. Some of them have had to literally stop and stay home with their child in order to survive and also not pay for child care,” Kerns said. “Those kids are suffering” as they stay home with stressed parents who are worrying about lost income, she added.  

    As families pulled their children, Kerns merged two buildings of her program into one, creating larger class sizes and new teacher assignments. That’s led to challenging behavioral problems for children who must adjust to new environments. Kerns anticipates losing teachers now that the work environment has become more stressful.

    Experts warn this trend in some states of scaling back early childhood investments is widening an existing nationwide disparity in the availability of affordable, high-quality child care. While states like Arkansas and Indiana pull back, a handful of others are moving the opposite direction, putting more money toward early learning. In New Mexico, for example, the nation’s first free universal child care program will launch on Nov. 1, paid for by oil and gas revenue that is routed to the state’s Early Childhood Education and Care Fund. In 2023, Vermont passed a payroll tax to increase child care funding in the state, while Connecticut established an endowment this year to route surplus state funds into early learning programs. 

    States have already been diverging in their approach to the child care industry since the pandemic. Rather than invest in more qualified workers, some states have opted to deregulate child care and bring teenagers in to care for young children. At the same time, places like the District of Columbia have increased qualifications for child care providers.

    Related: Rural Americans rely on Head Start. Federal turmoil has them worried

    “This is what happens when you don’t have public federal dollars in the system,” said NAEYC’s Hains. In states that are clawing back child care funds, “it’s going to result in lower quality care for children, or it’s going to result in families pulling back from the workforce and facing greater economic insecurity,” Hains said. “We’re going to see a real harmful impact on children and families as these investments are pulled back.”

    In Mooresville, Indiana, Jen Palmer calculated that her program, The Growing Garden Learning Center, will lose about $260,000 from its annual budget because of cuts in state contributions to care for children from low-income families. 

    “If nothing changes as of today, I can sustain for a year,” Palmer said. “Past that, I’m going to start dipping into my retirement savings.” She’s hesitant to discuss closing the program, one of highest-quality centers in the area. “I believe in this place. What we do is amazing. We just have to make it through this.”

    The lower subsidy rate is just the latest of a series of changes that Palmer has endured. Last December, Indiana stopped accepting new applicants into the care aid program and instead launched a waiting list. Palmer stopped getting calls from parents who wanted to enroll their children, as they couldn’t pay for care on their own. 

    Earlier this year, Indiana also announced cuts to reimbursement rates for its pre-K program, which is run in schools and child care programs throughout the state. Palmer now receives about $148 a week for each pre-K student she serves, down from more than $300 a week last year. Over the past three months, she’s had to lay off seven teachers and has taken over teaching in a pre-K classroom in the mornings. “We’re going to do our darndest that the kids don’t feel the impact,” she said. 

    She hasn’t been able to completely shield them. One toddler in her program recently shocked and delighted his teachers when he said his first word in English: a bold “no.” Concerned that the child had language delays, they were thrilled that he was starting to make progress. 

    Then the child’s family pulled him out of the program. His mother, who works as a delivery driver, had previously qualified for free child care paid for by state. With the state now paying less, her tuition jumped to $167 a month. 

    Instead of interacting with other children and teachers, playing and learning new skills, the toddler is now “sitting in mom’s car in a car seat driving around all over the county while she delivers for Uber,” said Palmer. “That just set that little guy years back. When he enters school, he’s no longer going to be on par with his classmates. That’s not fair. That can’t be the answer.”

    Contact staff writer Jackie Mader at 212-678-3562 or [email protected] 

    This story about child care was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.

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  • ‘The clock is ticking’: Shutdown imperils food, child care for many

    ‘The clock is ticking’: Shutdown imperils food, child care for many

    For families in more than a hundred Head Start programs across the country, November could mark the beginning of some hard decisions.

    On Saturday, 134 Head Start centers serving 58,400 children would normally receive their annual federal funding, but the ongoing government shutdown has put that money in jeopardy. The federally funded Head Start provides free preschool and child care for low-income families, and is particularly important to rural communities with few other child care options. 

    At the same time, the federal government has said that because of the shutdown, it cannot distribute Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) benefits that families also expect on the first of the month. Plus, a program that provides extra money for families to buy milk, baby formula, and fruit and vegetables is also running out of $300 million in emergency funding provided to it earlier this month.

    Related: Young children have unique needs and providing the right care can be a challenge. Our free early childhood education newsletter tracks the issues. 

    All this means low-income families are facing upheaval on multiple fronts, said Christy Gleason, the vice president of policy, advocacy and campaigns for the nonprofit group Save the Children. Families in Head Start often receive other federal benefits, so they could simultaneously be facing a disruption in child care — and the meals provided there — and public food assistance.

    “You’re going to end up with parents and caregivers who are skipping meals themselves, because that’s the way they put food on the table for their kids,” Gleason said. Save the Children manages Head Start programs in rural Arkansas, Indiana, Louisiana, North Carolina, Oklahoma and Tennessee, but its programs are not among those affected by the Nov. 1 annual funding deadline. Head Start has 1,600 programs that receive their yearly funding throughout the calendar year.

    There are still a few days left to avert the crisis, Gleason said. More than two dozen states are suing the government to force it to use a pot of money that had been set aside for paying SNAP benefits in an emergency. President Donald Trump also said this week that the food aid situation would be fixed, but didn’t offer details. Federal lawmakers have also introduced different proposals to keep food assistance money flowing. A handful of states said they will continue to pay for the supplemental milk and formula program, known as WIC. Head Start programs may be able to tap local money, but that isn’t expected to last long. 

    “The clock is ticking,” Gleason said. “Every hour that goes by is an hour where the stress for these families grows, but it’s not too late for government action to change course and make sure children are not the ones to suffer the consequences of political decisions.”

    New data quantifies child care gaps

    Nearly 15 million ages 5 and under in the United States have “all available parents” — both adults in a two-parent household, or one if the child has one adult caregiver — in the workforce. The country has about 11 million licensed or registered child care slots.

    That leaves about 4 million children whose families may need child care — a hard-to-grasp number that obscures the fact that some parts of the country may have greater needs than other regions because child care providers are concentrated in some areas and sparse in others.

    The Buffett Early Childhood Institute, based at the University of Nebraska, is trying to address that problem. It has created a map that it says will give a more accurate view of where child care is needed the most, down to the congressional district. 

    The map captures the number of children with working parents and the number of available spots in licensed child care. What it cannot capture is demand — not every family needs child care, even families with parents in the workforce — but the map does allow policymakers a starting place for a more nuanced evaluation of their community’s needs.

    “We know the limitations of the data, but we also know in order to address the gap, this needs to be broken down into bite-sized pieces,” said Linda Smith, director of policy at the Buffett Institute.

    This story about the government shutdown was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

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  • Rural Americans support more government spending on child care

    Rural Americans support more government spending on child care

    Hello! This is Christina Samuels, the early education editor here at Hechinger.

    By now, I hope you’ve had a chance to read my colleague Jackie Mader’s story about the important role that Head Start plays in rural communities. While Jackie set her story in western Ohio, she also interviewed Head Start parents and leaders in other parts of the country and collected their views for a follow-up article.

    In a fortunate bit of timing, the advocacy group First Five Years Fund published the results of a survey it commissioned on rural Americans and their feelings on child care access and affordability. Like the people Jackie interviewed, the survey respondents, more than half of whom identified as supporters of President Donald Trump, said they had very positive views of Head Start. The federally funded free child care program received positive marks from 71 percent of rural Republicans, 73 percent of rural independents and 92 percent of rural Democrats.

    The survey also found that 4 out of 5 respondents felt that finding quality child care is a major or critical problem in their part of the country. Two-thirds of those surveyed felt that spending on child care and early education programs is a good use of taxpayer dollars, and a little more than half said they’d like to see more federal dollars going to such programs.

    First Five Years Fund was particularly interested in getting respondents to share their thoughts on Head Start, said Sarah Rubinfield, the managing director of government affairs for First Five Years Fund. The program has been buffeted by regional office closures and cuts driven by the administration’s Department of Government Efficiency. 

    “We recognize that these are communities that often have few options for early learning and care,” Rubinfield said.

    In the survey, rural residents said they strongly supported not just the child care offered by Head Start, but the wraparound services such as healthy meals and snacks and the program’s support for children with developmental disabilities. Though Head Start programs are federally funded, community organizations are the ones in charge of spending priorities.

    “Rural voters want action. They support funding for Head Start and for child care. They want Congress to do more,” Rubinfield said. Though the “big beautiful bill” signed into law in July expands the child care tax credit for low-income families, survey respondents “recognized that things were not solved,” she added.

    The First Five Years Fund survey was released just a few days before a congressional standoff led to a government shutdown. The shutdown is not expected to touch Head Start immediately, said Tommy Sheridan, the deputy director of the National Head Start Association, in an interview with The New York Times. The 1,600 Head Start programs across the country receive money at different points throughout the calendar year; eight programs serving about 7,500 children were slated to receive their federal funding on Oct. 1, Sheridan told the Times. All should be able to continue operating, as long as the shutdown doesn’t last more than a few weeks, he said. 

    “We’re watching with careful concern but trying not to panic,” Rubinfield said. “We know the impacts may not be immediate, but the longer this goes on, the harder the impacts may be for families and programs.”

    This story about rural Americans was produced by The Hechinger Report, a nonprofit, independent news organization focused on inequality and innovation in education. Sign up for the Hechinger newsletter.

    The Hechinger Report provides in-depth, fact-based, unbiased reporting on education that is free to all readers. But that doesn’t mean it’s free to produce. Our work keeps educators and the public informed about pressing issues at schools and on campuses throughout the country. We tell the whole story, even when the details are inconvenient. Help us keep doing that.

    Join us today.

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  • The Unsustainable Nature of University-Related Health Care

    The Unsustainable Nature of University-Related Health Care

    University-related health care has become a sprawling and increasingly unsustainable enterprise. What began as a mission to train doctors, nurses, and medical researchers in service of the public good has morphed into a vast, profit-driven complex. Tied to the branding of universities, the financial imperatives of Big Medicine, and the precarious economics of higher education, this “Medugrift” reflects many of the same dysfunctions we see across American higher ed.

    The University as Health Care Conglomerate
    Major research universities often operate sprawling medical centers that rival Fortune 500 corporations in both revenue and expenses. Academic health systems like those at Johns Hopkins, Duke, Michigan, or USC bring in billions annually. Yet despite this scale, their finances are increasingly fragile. They rely heavily on a combination of government reimbursements, philanthropy, and sky-high tuition from medical students—many of whom graduate with debt loads exceeding $200,000.

    For universities, medical schools and hospitals serve as prestige engines and revenue streams, but they also drain resources, saddle institutions with debt, and expose them to scandals involving fraud, patient neglect, or mismanagement.

    The Student and Worker Burden
    The workforce supporting university health systems—residents, nurses, adjunct faculty, contract staff—often face long hours, low pay relative to the work demanded, and little job security. Meanwhile, students in health care disciplines are treated less as apprentices of the healing profession and more as revenue sources for both the university and affiliated corporations.

    Many young doctors-in-training are funneled into a system where their debt and exhaustion make them more compliant with the corporatization of medicine. Universities profit from this cycle, while students and patients carry the costs.

    Ballooning Costs and Broken Promises
    Despite claims of providing cutting-edge care and serving communities, university health systems often contribute to the nation’s crisis of affordability. Hospital charges at university facilities are often higher than at non-teaching hospitals, reflecting not only the real costs of research and training but also the administrative bloat, marketing budgets, and executive compensation packages that mirror the rest of higher ed.

    Patients face sticker shock, insurers pass costs to the public, and communities are left to wonder whether these “nonprofit” institutions are truly accountable.

    Medugrift and the Future
    The term Medugrift captures the contradictions: universities use the prestige of medical schools and hospitals to attract funding and political clout, but the system feeds on debt, underpaid labor, and inflated costs. It is not financially or ethically sustainable.

    As university debt rises and student loan defaults grow, the Medugrift may become a central fault line in the higher education crisis. Already, some universities have been forced to sell or spin off their hospitals. Others double down, betting on health care revenue streams to subsidize declining undergraduate enrollments.

    But this path cannot hold indefinitely. Like the broader higher education bubble, the university health care complex rests on fragile assumptions: endless student demand, limitless patient reimbursements, and unquestioned public trust. If those foundations crack, the consequences for both higher education and health care will be profound.

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  • The Grand Irony of Nursing Education and Burnout in U.S. Health Care

    The Grand Irony of Nursing Education and Burnout in U.S. Health Care

    Nursing has long been romanticized as both a “calling” and a profession—an occupation where devotion to patients is assumed to be limitless. Nursing schools, hospitals, and media narratives often reinforce this ideal, framing the nurse as a tireless caregiver who sacrifices for the greater good. But behind the cultural image is a system that normalizes exhaustion, accepts overwork, and relies on the quiet suffering of an increasingly strained workforce.

    The cultural expectation that nurses should sacrifice their own well-being has deep historical roots. Florence Nightingale’s legacy in the mid-19th century portrayed nursing as a noble vocation, tied as much to moral virtue as to medical skill. During World War I and World War II, nurses were celebrated as patriotic servants, enduring brutal conditions without complaint. By the late 20th century, popular culture reinforced the idea of the nurse as both saintly and stoic—expected to carry on through fatigue, trauma, and loss. This framing has carried into the 21st century. During the COVID-19 pandemic, nurses were lauded as “heroes” in speeches, advertisements, and nightly news coverage. But the rhetoric of heroism masked a harsher reality: nurses were sent into hospitals without adequate protective equipment, with overwhelming patient loads, and with little institutional support. The language of devotion was used as a shield against criticism, even as nurses themselves broke down from exhaustion.

    The problem begins in nursing education. Students are taught the technical skills of patient care, but they are also socialized into a culture that emphasizes resilience, self-sacrifice, and “doing whatever it takes.” Clinical rotations often expose nursing students to chronic understaffing and unsafe patient loads, but instead of treating this as structural failure, students are told it is simply “the reality of nursing.” In effect, they are trained to adapt to dysfunction rather than challenge it.

    Once in the workforce, the pressures intensify. Hospitals and clinics operate under tight staffing budgets, pushing nurses to manage far more patients than recommended. Shifts stretch from 12 to 16 hours, and mandatory overtime is not uncommon. Documentation demands, electronic medical record systems, and administrative oversight add layers of clerical work that take time away from direct patient care. The emotional toll of constantly navigating life-and-death decisions, combined with lack of rest, creates a perfect storm of burnout. The grand irony is that the profession celebrates devotion while neglecting the well-being of the devoted. Nurses are praised as “heroes” during crises, but when they ask for better staffing ratios, safer conditions, or mental health support, they are often dismissed as “not team players.” In non-unionized hospitals, the risks are magnified: nurses have little leverage to negotiate schedules, resist unsafe assignments, or push back against retaliation. Instead, they are expected to remain loyal, even as stress erodes their health and shortens their careers.

    Recent years have shown that nurses are increasingly unwilling to accept this reality. In Oregon in 2025, nearly 5,000 unionized nurses, physicians, and midwives staged the largest health care worker strike in the state’s history, demanding higher wages, better staffing levels, and workload adjustments that reflect patient severity rather than just patient numbers. After six weeks, they secured a contract with substantial pay raises, penalty pay for missed breaks, and staffing reforms. In New Orleans, nurses at University Medical Center have launched repeated strikes as negotiations stall, citing unsafe staffing that puts both their health and their patients at risk. These actions are not isolated. In 2022, approximately 15,000 Minnesota nurses launched the largest private-sector nurses’ strike in U.S. history, and since 2020 the number of nurse strikes nationwide has more than tripled.

    Alongside strikes, nurses are pushing for legislative solutions. At the federal level, the Nurse Staffing Standards for Hospital Patient Safety and Quality Care Act has been introduced, which would mandate minimum nurse-to-patient ratios and provide whistleblower protections. In New York, the Safe Staffing for Hospital Care Act seeks to set legally enforceable staffing levels and ban most mandatory overtime. Even California, long considered a leader in nurse staffing ratios, has faced crises in psychiatric hospitals so severe that Governor Gavin Newsom introduced emergency rules to address chronic understaffing linked to patient harm. Enforcement remains uneven, however. At Albany Medical Center in New York, chronic understaffing violations led to hundreds of thousands of dollars in fines, a reminder that without strong oversight, even well-crafted laws can be ignored.

    The United States’ piecemeal and adversarial approach contrasts sharply with other countries. In Canada, provinces like British Columbia have legislated nurse-to-patient ratios similar to those in California, and in Quebec, unions won agreements that legally cap workloads for certain units. In the United Kingdom, the National Health Service has long recognized safe staffing as a matter of public accountability, and while austerity policies have strained the system, England, Wales, and Scotland all employ government-set nurse-to-patient standards to protect both patients and staff. Nordic countries go further, with Sweden and Norway integrating nurse well-being into health policy; short shifts, strong union protections, and publicly funded healthcare systems reduce the risk of burnout by design. While no system is perfect, these models show that burnout is not inevitable—it is a political and policy choice.

    Union presence consistently makes a difference. Studies show that unionized nurses are more successful at securing safe staffing ratios, resisting exploitative scheduling, and advocating for patient safety. But unionization rates in nursing remain uneven, and in many states nurses are discouraged or even legally restricted from organizing. Without collective power, individual nurses are forced to rely on personal endurance, which is precisely what the system counts on.

    The outcome is devastating not only for nurses but for patients. Burnout leads to higher turnover, staffing shortages, and medical errors—all while nursing schools continue to churn out new graduates to replace those driven from the profession. It is a cycle sustained by institutional denial and the myth of infinite devotion.

    If U.S. higher education is serious about preparing nurses for the future, nursing programs must move beyond the rhetoric of sacrifice. They need to teach students not only how to care for patients but also how to advocate for themselves and their colleagues. They need to expose the structural causes of burnout and prepare nurses to demand better conditions, not simply endure them. Until then, the irony remains: a profession that celebrates care while sacrificing its caregivers.

    Sources

    • American Nurses Association (ANA). “Workplace Stress & Burnout.” ANA Enterprise, 2023.

    • National Nurses United. Nursing Staffing Crisis in the United States, 2022.

    • Bae, S. “Nurse Staffing and Patient Outcomes: A Literature Review.” Nursing Outlook, Vol. 64, No. 3 (2016): 322-333.

    • Bureau of Labor Statistics. “Union Members Summary.” U.S. Department of Labor, 2024.

    • Shah, M.K., Gandrakota, N., Cimiotti, J.P., Ghose, N., Moore, M., Ali, M.K. “Prevalence of and Factors Associated With Nurse Burnout in the US.” JAMA Network Open, Vol. 4, No. 2 (2021): e2036469.

    • Nelson, Sioban. Say Little, Do Much: Nursing, Nuns, and Hospitals in the Nineteenth Century. University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001.

    • Kalisch, Philip A. & Kalisch, Beatrice J. The Advance of American Nursing. Little, Brown, 1986.

    • Oregon Capital Chronicle, “Governor Kotek Criticizes Providence Over Largest Strike of Health Care Workers in State History,” January 2025.

    • Associated Press, “Oregon Health Care Strike Ends After Six Weeks,” February 2025.

    • National Nurses United, “New Orleans Nurses Deliver Notice for Third Strike at UMC,” 2025.

    • NurseTogether, “Nurse Strikes: An Increasing Trend in the U.S.,” 2024.

    • New York State Senate Bill S4003, “Safe Staffing for Hospital Care Act,” 2025.

    • San Francisco Chronicle, “Newsom Imposes Emergency Staffing Rules at State Psychiatric Hospitals,” 2025.

    • Times Union, “Editorial: Hospital’s Staffing Violations Show Need for Enforcement,” 2025.

    • Oulton, J.A. “The Global Nursing Shortage: An Overview of Issues and Actions.” Policy, Politics, & Nursing Practice, Vol. 7, No. 3 (2006): 34S–39S.

    • Rafferty, Anne Marie et al. “Outcomes of Variation in Hospital Nurse Staffing in English Hospitals.” BMJ Quality & Safety, 2007.

    • Aiken, Linda H. et al. “Nurse Staffing and Education and Hospital Mortality in Nine European Countries.” The Lancet, Vol. 383, No. 9931 (2014): 1824–1830.

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  • ‘They Are Hunting Us:’ D.C. Child Care Workers Go Underground Amid ICE Crackdown – The 74

    ‘They Are Hunting Us:’ D.C. Child Care Workers Go Underground Amid ICE Crackdown – The 74


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    From her home-based day care in Washington, D.C., Alma peers out the door and down the sidewalks. If they’re clear and there are no ICE agents out, she’ll give her coworker a call letting her know it’s safe to head in for work.

    They have to be careful with the kids, too. Typically, she took the five children she cares for to the library on Wednesdays and out to parks throughout the week, but Alma — who, like her coworker, does not have permanent legal status — had to stop doing that in August, when President Donald Trump declared a “crime emergency” in the district. Now, two of the kids she cares for are being pulled out of the day care. The parents said it was because they weren’t going outside.

    Trump has deployed the National Guard and a wave of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) agents into the district. ICE arrests there have increased tenfold. The situation has thrust the Latinas who hold up the nation’s child care sector into a perpetual state of panic. Nationwide, about 1 in 5 child care workers are immigrants, but in D.C. it’s closer to 40 percent; about 7 percent nationally lack permanent legal status. Nearly all are women.

    Many are missing work, and others are risking it because they simply can’t afford to lose pay, providers told The 19th. All are afraid they’ll be next.

    “What kind of life is this?” said Alma, whose name The 19th has changed to protect her identity. “We are not delinquents, we are not bad people, we are here to work to support our family.”

    Alma has been running a home-based day care for the past decade. She’s been in the United States for 22 years, working in child care that entire time. With two kids being pulled, she will have to reduce her staffer’s hours as she tries to find children to fill those spots.

    Her four school-age children also depend on her. This month, she had to write out a signed document detailing what should happen to her kids if she were to be detained. Her wish is that they be brought to detention with her.

    “I can’t imagine my kids here without me,” she said.

    She said she understands the president’s approach of expelling immigrants with criminal convictions from the country, but teachers who are working with kids? Who haven’t committed any crime?

    By targeting them, she said, the administration is “destroying entire families.”

    The Multicultural Spanish Speaking Providers Association in D.C., which works with Latina child care providers, has seen this panic first hand for the past couple of weeks as more and more Latinas in child care have stopped coming into work. The center also helps workers obtain their associate’s degree in early childhood education, and since the semester started in mid-August, many teachers have asked for classes to be offered virtually so they don’t have to show up to campus at night.

    Latinas have flocked to the child care industry for multiple reasons: Families seeking care value access to language education, and Latinas have a lower language barrier to entry, said Blanca Huezo, the program coordinator at the Multicultural Spanish Speaking Providers Association.

    “In general, this industry offers them an opportunity for a fresh start professionally in their own language and without leaving behind their culture,” Huezo said.

    Though the number of child care workers without permanent legal status has historically been low, recent changes from the Trump administration to revoke or reduce legal protections have likely increased it. This year, the administration has narrowed opportunities for claiming asylum at the border, tried to bar certain groups from obtaining Temporary Protected Status and temporarily paused humanitarian protections for groups of migrants.

    The changes, coupled with increased enforcement, has fostered fear among Latinx people regardless of immigration status. That fear among workers is deepening a staffing crisis in an industry that already couldn’t afford additional losses, Huezo said.

    “There is a shortage — and now even more,” she said. “There are many centers where nearly 99 percent of teachers are of Hispanic origin.”

    Washington, D.C., has been a sanctuary city since 2020, where law enforcement cooperation with immigration officials was broadly prohibited. Earlier this year, however, Mayor Muriel Bowser proposed repealing that law and, in mid-August, Washington’s Metropolitan Police Department Police Chief Pamela Smith gave officers leeway to share information with ICE about individuals they arrested or stopped.

    “There was some peace that living in D.C. brought more security,” Huezo said. Now, “people don’t feel that freedom to walk through the streets.”

    Several child care workers are afraid to go to work in DC, now that President Trump has removed restrictions on ICE conducting enforcement at schools and daycares.
    (Getty Images)

    Child care centers are also no longer off limits for ICE raids. The centers were previously protected under a “sensitive locations” directive that advised ICE to not conduct enforcement in places like schools and day cares. But Trump removed that protection on his first day in office. While reports have not yet surfaced of raids in day cares, ICE presence near child care care centers, including in D.C., has been reported.

    A similar story of fear and surveillance has already played out in Los Angeles, where ICE conducted widespread raids earlier in the summer. Huezo said her organization has been in touch with child care providers in L.A. to learn about how they managed those months.

    In the meantime, the best the organization can do, she said, is connect workers with as many resources as possible, including legal clinics, but the ones that help immigrants are at their maximum caseload. The group has put child care workers who are not leaving their homes in touch with an organization called Food Justice DMV that is delivering meals to their doorsteps. Prior to last month, people who needed food could fill out a form and get it that same week. Now, the wait time is two to three weeks, Huezo said. For those in Maryland and Virginia, it’s closer to a month.

    Thalia, a teacher at a day care, said her coworkers have stopped coming to work. It’s all the staff talks about during their lunchtime conversations. When she rides the Metro into work, she looks over her shoulder for the ICE agents, their faces covered, who are often at the exits.

    “They are hunting us,” she said.

    Thalia, whose name has been changed because she does not have permanent legal status, has been living in the United States for nine years and working in child care that entire time. Like her, many of the Latina teachers she works with have earned certifications and degrees in early childhood education.

    “We are working, we are cooperating, paying taxes,” she said. “We are there all day so other families can benefit from the child care.”

    As a single mother, Thalia has also had to consider what would happen to her three children if she was detained. This past month, she retained a lawyer who could help them with their case in case anything were to happen. Her school-age kids know: Call the lawyer if mom is detained and get tickets to Guatemala to meet her there.

    This is what she lives with every day now: “The fear of leaving your family and letting them know, ‘If I don’t return, it’s not because I am abandoning you.’ ”

    This story was originally reported by Chabeli Carrazana of The 19th. Meet Chabeli and read more of her reporting on gender, politics and policy.


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